Ole Time Religion
by BoxerMan
Summary: [One-Shot] Faith is not merely a human concept.


-'Ole Time Religion.'-  
  
Pairings: none.  
  
Disclaimers: I don't own anything relating to Smallville nor the character Father Cranston. They both belong to someone else.  
  
Timeframe: I dunno, Season 2 sometime. (Sorry, but I've missed some of S3 due to work. And I do not have Tivo due to the fact that I have no money.)  
  
A/N: God knows you can't write more unless you get reviews. This has been an idea that I've been kicking around in my head since mid season 2. So let me know what you think.  
  
A/N 2: My first Smallville Fanfic. Constructive criticism is insanely appreciated. Regular criticism is appreciated, but only if you cuss. And I'm going to finish my Buffy fanfics in a bit, I just had to crank this one out, it's been sitting on my hard drive for too long.  
  
A/N3: And I'm not going to go into a 'what religion is best' contest. I'm more or less Catholic. So that's why Clark visits a priest, because I know more about that religion.  
  
Summary: [One-Shot] Faith is not merely a human concept.  
  
////////////////////////////////////  
  
Clark had a fairly simple Sunday morning ritual. He would get up early, help his father out in the farm, and then help his mother with the produce outside the Farmer's Market. Usually by 11:00 or so, Chloe or Pete would come and rescue him from his indentured servitude. So far, no luck today.  
  
"Here's your apples Mrs. McDonald, and tell Mr. McDonald that I'll bring by his tomatoes later in the week."  
  
Mrs. McDonald smiled at the young man as he put the produce in the back of her truck. "Thank you Clark. I must say that I'm jealous that Martha has such a nice strapping young man to help out with the work. My Jeremy never offers to help me out around the farm."  
  
Clark smiled and shut the back of the truck. "Jeremy is four, Mrs. McDonald. I don't think he'd be much help."  
  
The farmer's wife gave him a blank look before opening the driver's side door. "Well, it would still be nice to offer."  
  
Clark grinned and shook his head. The woman turned on the engine and put her head out the open window. "Tell your mother that Earl and I will send our payment at the end of the month like usual."  
  
"You got it Mrs. McDonald."  
  
Clark watched as the green truck pulled out of the lot and started walking back towards the produce stand.  
  
He greeted his mother before picking up another box of apples. "Hey Mom. Where did you want me to deliver these?"  
  
Martha smiled and waved him over. "Put those down Clark, we're almost done for the day. The after breakfast rush is almost over."  
  
Clark sighed and put them down. "So, how'd we make out today?"  
  
His mother sighed and continued to close up the stand. "We did pretty good today. Made about $150, which should help us out until the end of the week."  
  
Clark smiled. He knew that things weren't going well with the farm. Although it wasn't a lot, every bit helped. Martha sighed as she saw the thoughts come across Clark's face. "Don't worry honey. The money is taken care of. Just go have fun."  
  
Clark's face lit up into a smile. "You sure Mom?"  
  
Martha smiled and turned around to pick up a bag of feed. "Yes Clark, just make sure that you stop by the Henderson's before..."  
  
WHOOOOSH.  
  
She stopped and sighed to herself as she turned around. "I'm surprised he made it that long."  
  
//////////////////////////////////////  
  
Clark walked into the building with a slight sense of apprehension. A voice startled him, "May I help you son?"  
  
Clark turned around to face an old priest in a traditional black outfit with a white collar. "Oh, uh...sorry," he chuckled, "you startled me there."  
  
He gave Clark a polite smile and started to walk alongside him holding his hands behind his back. "Sorry about that my son, I try not to make it a habit of scaring people that walk into my church. It tends to keep them away."  
  
The priest looked to be in his early sixties, but in fairly decent shape. His gray hair contrasted the dark sharp eyes and almost beaklike nose. The two walked a couple steps before the priest spoke again. "Is there something troubling you?"  
  
Clark shook his head. "No, see I-I just wanted to be alone and think for a while."  
  
The priest raised an eyebrow. "Today is Sunday."  
  
Clark gave him a confused look. "Huh?"  
  
"Today is Sunday. Sunday masses run almost all morning. You're lucky you came in right after the 10:30 mass let out, otherwise you'd probably have to stand at the back, the church gets so full."  
  
Clark looked down at his shoes. "Oh...I didn't know that."  
  
The old priest chuckled. "I take it that you're _not_ part of the congregation."  
  
Clark smiled and continued to walk next to him past the pews. "No, I was just curious. I was looking for a place to be alone, and a church seemed like a good idea."  
  
The priest looked back towards the entrance to the church where people were starting to arrive for the next mass. "Don't worry, my name is Father Cranston, and you are free to look around as long as you like. We are going to be starting another service in about twenty minutes or so if you wish to attend. But the church's door is always open to those who wish to enlighten themselves or to simply get in from the cold. If you'll excuse me, I have to go get ready."  
  
Clark nodded and the priest walked away. People started walking by him and settling down into the pews. He took a seat in the last row and waited for the mass to begin. Slowly people started to trickle into the small house of worship until it was bursting at the seams. Clark got up and offered his seat to an elderly couple and walked towards the back of the church. He stood there for a couple of seconds before loosing his nerve and walking towards the exit. As he approached the doors, he heard the organ slowly start to play. He stared at the door for several seconds before deciding.  
  
////////////////////////////////////////////////////  
  
Clark sat outside the church as the sun began to set. He played with the last rays of sunshine as they wafted through his hand. Even though it was supposed to be cold outside, whenever he touched a few bands of sunshine, it felt like the sun herself came down and kissed his skin. He sighed as the warmth began to shy away back across the sky. He turned back to the front entrance of the church. The sign said that the last mass of the day had ended and that the church would soon be closed. He stuck his hands back into the pockets of his jacket as the cool Kansas night started to roll in.  
  
The front door opened and he saw Father Cranston smile at him before turning around to lock the door. "Hello my son. I didn't see you sitting there, or I would have invited you in."  
  
Clark smiled and walked up to him, faking a slight chill as the breeze came by. "No, its okay. I was just wondering if I could talk to you."  
  
The priest nodded. "Of course." He turned around and unlocked the door. "Come in from the cold. I don't want you to get sick now."  
  
Clark hurried behind the elderly priest as the entered the old church. At night the church seemed less intimidating than he remembered it from earlier that day. It wasn't dark or foreboding, but it seemed comfortable, more tempered and spiritual than before. The bright loud chandeliers and stained glass windows did not stand out as much and the light from the candles lit at the statue of Mary seemed to play across the entire room, regardless of its size.  
  
The priest walked back over to him. "Well my son, what is it that I can do for you?"  
  
Clark looked at the elderly priest in confusion. "Why do you call me that?"  
  
The old man raised an eyebrow before it registered. "Oh, my son? Well that's because I one of my titles is 'Father' and I am to consider my congregation as, well, my family for lack of a better word. "  
  
Clark shook his head. "But I'm not part of the congregation."  
  
The priest smiled at him. "Well, I guess then it's just a bad habit."  
  
Clark nodded his head. "Oh."  
  
Father Cranston chuckled. "Its not that bad, the nun's habits are worse."  
  
Clark cocked his head to the side. "Huh?"  
  
The priest looked at him and tried to explain. "It's a joke. Nun's habits?" [1]  
  
Clark continued to look at him.  
  
The old man sighed and sat down in a pew. "Never mind. Tell me, what was it you wanted to talk about?"  
  
Clark sat down next to him and stared up at the front of the church. Behind the altar was a large crucifix. The man's body seemed in agony as the spikes in his hands and feet nailed him to the cross. Red paint was used as blood to show him bleeding from his wounds. The crown of thorns tore into the figures head, leaving lines of red paint down his face. Clark spoke aloud "His eyes are withdrawn."  
  
The priest looked ahead of him at the crucifix. "It is said that when he died for our sins, he pleaded with God to stop it. He knew that it was going to happen, that he was going to die. He accepted his fate, but he was still a man."  
  
Clark looked back over at the priest. "I thought he was supposed to be a savior or you know the Son of God."  
  
The priest nodded, keeping his gaze on the cross. "Yes, that's how he saved us. He died for our sins, so that we through him would have salvation. But Jesus was still a man. We make his eyes seem withdrawn, and full of pain because that's what it is to be human. We have pain, and we have torment, but we also have hope and salvation."  
  
They both sat in silence for a while staring up at the cross.  
  
After a few minutes Clark spoke. "In the mass, you talked about how he created the heaven and the Earth and Adam and Eve right?"  
  
Father Cranston smiled a little. "I didn't think I saw you at the mass."  
  
Clark shrugged his shoulders and gave a guilty smile. "I kinda gave up my seat and stood in the back."  
  
The priest grinned. "I can't see towards the back very well. The sight is one of the first things to go in old age, luckily I still have my good looks and sharp wit to keep me going."  
  
Clark shifted in his seat a little. "What about other worlds?"  
  
"Well, God created the universe with all of its suns and planets..."  
  
Clark interrupted him. "No, I uh..." He put his hands on his knees and looked at Father Cranston. "I mean, what about _life_ on other planets?"  
  
The old priest smiled and leaned back in the pew. "Ah."  
  
Clark cocked his head to the side. "You get asked that a lot?"  
  
Father Cranston nodded. "Yes, usually by the third graders in Mrs. Beakman's CCD class. But tell me, what do you believe?"  
  
Clark sat up strait and looked off into nowhere for a second before replying. "I don't know. I only know what I feel and think. And, you know I try to do my best..."  
  
The elderly priest gave him a confused look. "I thought we were talking about aliens?"  
  
Clark gave a sheepish smile and tried to continue. "I just think that if, like an alien came to earth, should it believe in God, or does it have a soul, would it go to heaven, is there an alien heaven, or I don't know. I probably sound a little stupid."  
  
The priest shook his head. "No, those are very good questions. Some of the best questions are about souls and what people should believe, I don't know what I can tell you but..." Father Cranston raised both eyebrows and let out a long breath. "Well, Did you want the Church's official position or my personal opinion?"  
  
Clark looked at him expectantly. "Both?"  
  
The priest smiled and started talking. "Well, I guess the official position on aliens is the same position that the Church has on animals. That Christ's salvation was a gift to mankind. Only people that believe in the Catholic Church are allowed into heaven and only humans can have souls." [2]  
  
Clark faltered slightly and cast his eyes down. Father Cranston smiled a little and continued talking. "My personal opinion is that if they're life out there, I don't see why not. If an alien can make decisions, if it can decide right from wrong and try its best to be a good-for lack of a better word-person, it by definition has a soul and should go to heaven."  
  
Clark accepted this answer a little better and sat up a little more in his seat. Father Cranston pursed his lips together and furrowed his brow. "I actually don't believe in the animal thing either. I know when the good lord takes me, I'll see my assortment of cats, dogs, fish, and birds I've had over the years."  
  
Clark gave a small smile and began to get up. "Thanks for listening Father Cranston."  
  
The priest smiled and slowly started to get himself up. Clark bent over and gave him a hand. "Thank you my child."  
  
Clark gave him a funny look. "Is that the same as 'my son?'"  
  
Father Cranston smiled. "Well, I still don't know youre name yet, and until I do, I shall be forced to call you that."  
  
Clark smiled and walked with him back to the entrance. "My name's Clark, Clark Kent."  
  
The priest smiled. "Ah, the famous reclusive Kents. I believe I've heard a few good things about you and your family. God smiles upon Good Samaritans."  
  
////////////////////////////////  
  
Clark sat up in the loft petting one of the stray cats that had settled in the barn. She was a gray and white tabby. She purred as he stroked the side of her cheek. The telescope had been put to good use lately, mapping out the stars and gazing towards the heavens. He didn't have all of the answers. And he guessed that he pretty much never would. Father Cranston had said that people believed in God because of faith. Faith that he held all the answers and that they trusted him to do so. God was a beacon that everyone was striving for. If not God himself, then the idea of God. That there is something bigger and more powerful than yourself, that all creatures, great and small, alien or not, could trust with their fate.  
  
"CLARK! COME DOWN, DINNERS READY!"  
  
Clark sighed and put down the tabby cat, who immediately protested by rubbing up against his leg. "Sorry Mrs. Tittles, but food is food."  
  
WHOOOOSH.  
  
Mrs. Tittles meowed and pranced over to the windowsill and looked town through the kitchen window as the Kents sat down for supper. A soft purr emanated from the feline as she laid down and went to sleep.  
  
------------------------------  
  
[1] A nun's habit is the black and white outfit. Father Cranston is trying to use a Catholic joke that's older than I am.  
  
[2] This is the Catholic Church's position as far as I understand it. If it's wrong, let me know.  
  
Thanks for reading. 


End file.
